Le Rosbif Writes: Anthony Peregrine, our expat expert on the French, proposes
some improvements to the Michelin star system and the French dining
experience in general

News of the adjudications of the yet-to-be-published Michelin Guide to France 2014 was leaked today, and their relevance held up for some serious scrutiny.The French restaurant world, always simmering, has come to the boil. But whether the losers despair or simply rail against the system, the winners will happily go on local TV to pay tribute to their grandmothers, at whose knees they learned how to gut guinea fowl. They will then ascribe subsequent success to the quality of produce used. "Nature dictates my cooking," they will say. The formula rarely changes. No chef ever puts his newly-awarded accolade down to boil-in-the-bag technology, or says it's a feather in the cap for pot noodles.

This is fine, almost endearing, but I have some sympathy with those who criticise the system. There are certain elements of French restauration which Michelin never addresses and which need correcting. In my world, each failing mentioned below would lead to the loss of points, the loss of sufficient points leading to the loss of a Michelin star. (The French are Cartesian; they'll understand that.)

Idiocy on arrival

* The maître-d': "You wish to dine, Monsieur?" ("No, I wish to play croquet. Please clear a space.") Two points lost.

* Unless you're very lucky, house apéritifs are invariably coloured nuclear orange, the result of mixing concentrated apricot juice with the cheapest sparkling wine. A scotch is always preferable. I really don't know why Michelin never mentions this.

* Menu descriptions longer than the meal itself, tending to imply that the chef is a poet and sage: these are to be proscribed, unless the exponent is the incomparable Christian Sinicropi of the Palme-d'Or restaurant in Cannes. In a land of impenetrable philosophers - Descartes, Sartre, Cantona - Mr Sinicropi remains the least penetrable of all. His menu texts wrap themselves around each other into a sort of zenith of incomprehensibility. Thus, from his autumn menu : "A dimension of emotion, of sharing, of palliative exchanges superimposed on an initial approach with a title of nobility in two, three or four phases." In the presence of such genius, one can but genuflect. But other, lesser talents, aiming for incomprehensibility, remain all-too-comprehensible. Thus it is that we shall deduct points for each menu use of (the French versions of) "symphony", "harmony", "ethereal", "sublime" and any other terms suggesting we're in for an apparition of the Virgin Mary rather than a meal. Points are also lost for all references to "the hills and valleys of our region", "traditional peasant practices", and "long-forgotten vegetables".

* "Oven-roasted " and "pan-fried" are obvious points losers. (Where do you expect to roast and fry? In the car boot?)

* Nor do we need to know the name and address of the fellow who supplied the goats' cheese. We're not here to make friends with cheese producers.

Wine

* It is time to state the obvious: being a sommelier is not a serious job. It is not a job at all. It is simply affectation in an apron. The only people interested in a sommelier's services will know much about wine already. They'll be more determined to show off their own knowledge than listen to a wine waiter. Everyone else will go for the second-cheapest on the list, whatever happens. Wine lists longer than David Copperfield are a damned nuisance, and wines over €50 an irrelevance in almost all cases.

* Nor does anyone really want to talk about how the mineral fruitiness of the merlot teases out the marrowy nuances of the côte-de-boeuf. They want to talk about soccer, sex and shopping. So - sommelier: skedaddle. Your presence is losing vital points.

* And it's losing more yet if you are in the habit of serving the wine, then placing the bottle in a stand or on a nearby table just beyond the reach of the diners. This means they're dependent on you for re-fills - which may help you occupy those dead moments between clocking on and knocking off - but drives them either witless or to wrench a shoulder. If people are rich enough to eat in your restaurant, they can handle the wine.

* Many of your British customers will prefer beef which has stopped bleeding. They may also dislike tripe, pigs' innards and octopus. This is not being weedy. It is a matter of upbringing. Sneering loses you valuable points. And please note: if we were looking for role models for the truly tough, we'd probably not start with French waiters.

* Arrangements of dots of sauce on a plate are culinary masturbation. Lose 10 points.

* A wrapped wedge of camembert and slither of brie does not qualify as a "festival of regional cheeses". Another 10 lost.

* Mixed toilets have had their day. Women don't like passing behind a line of peeing men, and men aren't wild about it, either. And there's no point in making eau-de-cologne available in the WC. No-one readily returns to the table smelling of something they picked up in the bog.

* Finally, another word to French chefs: resist the temptation to emerge from the kitchen to chat with diners as their meals end. This is a genuine points loser, especially if you don't share a common language. It's an excercise in ego-massaging for you and embarrassment for them. The manager of Waitrose doesn't patrol the supermarket exit, to discuss the shopping experience with his customers as they leave. He stays in his office. You stay in your kitchen. If I need to talk, I'll phone.